This Ain't A Scene, It's A (Lousy) Arms Race

Martin Luther King Jr. had a dream, the Beatles had a yellow submarine, and I have a problem. It's more of an addiction, really. Just admitting this is a big first step for me. Every year I try to fight it. Every season I try to talk myself out of it, but it's becoming clear that this self-destructing tendency will forever be my downfall. I should have my own MTV special.

"True Life: I Always Draft Too Many Pitchers"

I fell into old habits this year and did it again. Oops. And like my love of Taco Bell or attraction to Jewish girls, this isn't going to end well.

But first, the good news: the Darling Asteroids' rotation is anchored by future Cy Young winner Felix Hernandez and Chad Freakin' Billingsley. We all know how great King Felix is. But Chad...oh Chad, where to begin? Let me count the ways I love Mr. Billingsley. Perhaps it's the way his slider breaks through the atmosphere on cool summer days. Perhaps it's the way Dodger blue brings out the color in his eyes (an impossibly dark brown). Whatever the reason, my love for Chad Billingsley cannot be explained or contained.

Let this incredible stat percolate in your dome piece for a minute: Every time Chad Billingsley wins, the Dodgers are undefeated.

Think about it.

Unfortunately that is where the good vibes end. I have hitched my wagon to a bunch of nobodies, and for six months we must dance. It will be slow. Bobby Jenks "highlights" an underwhelming bullpen which also features Francisco Cordero, Frank Francisco and David "First Alphabetically, Last in our Hearts" Aardsma. These four will toil in mediocrity throughout the season if I don't kill them first.

The rest of the rotation isn't much better. Oh, make no mistake. There will be moments of tenderness, moments of joy. Kyle Kendrick will look me in the eyes and tell me he loves me...and like a fool I will believe him. Randy Wells will get my hopes up. By mid-August they will have me believing in them. But it is not to be. These men are all third or fourth starters for a reason. Like Icarus before me, a precipitous fall I shall endure as I tumble down the standings. Ted Lilly will rip my heart out.

If I'm going to hell, I'm bringing you with me, Jeff Niemann.

There are two faint, flickering rays of hope in the distance named Stephen Strasburg and Aroldis Chapman. Strasburg was last year's #1 overall pick and can hit 100 mph. He's the best thing to happen to Washington, D.C. since Gilbert Arenas in a long time and should be in the Nationals' rotation by June. Chapman is a Cuban defector currently experiencing the American dream of living in Ohio and playing for Dusty Baker. Baker's most recent claim to fame is absolutely destroying the young arms of Mark Prior and Kerry Wood when he managed the Cubs. Chapman figures to start the season in the minors, as far away from Dusty as possible. When he gets called up, I just pray he notches a few wins and strikeouts before his elbow explodes.

If Strasburg and/or Chapman work out, even a little bit, the entire season may not be lost. Just most of it. All the world's a stage, and these are the players I've chosen.

This addiction will be the death of me. Somebody call Dr. Drew.